Sylvie + Shandor (Rocker Shenanigans Book 1)

by Alyson Santos

  It’s…

  No freaking way.

  “Sylvie?”

  I can’t move. I just stare into amber eyes, completely paralyzed. Our visitor is cold. He has to be cold.

  “You look cold,” is what I say to the man I’ve shed four hundred gallons of tears over since leaving him alone on a beach in the Bahamas.

  “Yeah. Kinda.”

  That smile. That…

  I scream and throw myself into his arms. He sighs against my hair as I drag him inside, a fifth kind of tears flooding my eyes. I have no words, only the tightest grip my arms have ever managed. I’m never letting go again. Ever. He’s going to have to have me surgically removed.

  “It’s good to see you again,” he murmurs against my ear, but those lips need to be on mine. I pull back enough to redirect them and transfer my vise grip to his face.

  “I’m sorry! So sorry,” I cry between kisses. “I didn’t know…”

  Yeah, I still don’t know what to say, except, “I think I love you, Shandor.”

  I freeze. Search his eyes, wait in terrified silence. He has to know though. Right? I hold my breath as his golden gaze dissolves into mine.

  “It’s true. I’m in love with you,” I breathe.

  Christmas Day.

  Is a killer invention. Especially if you love like a madman, get on a fucking plane to Canada, and appear on your Love Fire’s doorstep.

  Funny thing, I’ve spent my entire adult life running from this sensation. I thought it lived with my people, a disease that traveled with them, but the Xodyars have never set foot in the Bahamas.

  So it’s interesting how my Love Fire landed there when I did. She waited for me at the hotel with a blood-scorching first impression of pink-and-turquoise locks and mascaraed-down lashes.

  The Love Fire used to be a prison, a reason to stay on my own straight-and-narrow, out of sight and out of the way. But today, Sylvie’s hands tremble around my face, her lips press against mine, and the Love Fire is a tropical island I’d detonate bombs to never be extracted from.

  Now, I kiss my TQ’s mouth, taste her fear, her love, the depth of what she means to me. She doesn’t know, but our future will be hard work and attention infused with ever-burning heat and never-slipping love.

  Sylvie has years of college ahead of her. Men will barge in, try to land my baby one after the other while I’m on tour for us, but I am serious when I tug at the back of her hair to make her gaze meet mine.

  I don’t voice my words when I stare down at her. Try me, I think. I’m a Gypsy, baby. You don’t have to ask for effort in love. You’ll get it whether you want it or not. And I’m sorry: no bland Canadian will ever measure up to me.

  I’ll tell her later.

  For now, I’m busy trampling down imagined fences and walls I’ve built between us. Intoxicated, I suckle on her lips and make our tongues tangle. God, I need her in my hands—I cradle Sylvie’s cheeks and pull out to find her eyes. They beam, uncertainty and bliss mingling, a high I’d never find in booze or drugs or guitars.

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have blurted that out,” she whispers, fear overpowering her bliss. Oh I can’t have that.

  “Blurted what out?” Please. Repeat it.

  “That I’m in love with you?” Even at close range, I catch every detail of my TQ’s button nose scrunching up in disgust at herself. “Crap. You made me say it again.”

  “You’re in love with me?” I whisper.

  “Um. Yes. Whatever, Shandor.” She gets huffy sometimes, which is irresistible.

  “I love you too.”

  She sucks in a breathy stutter that makes me want her hard. We’re in her parents’ house, and I’m about to meet them—that much is clear from the silhouettes hovering only feet past the first archway. Yes, no makeup love for us. Unless I can sneak her off to my hotel later?

  “You do?” she says, extracting me from my plans.

  “Yeah, and I’ve got a plan for us that’ll mean no more pain for me.” Once I say it, I hear how self-absorbed it sounds. Sylvie smiles though, the corners of her lips steadying in an upward lift.

  “What is it?”

  My exhale blasts free, relief and worry untangling. All I need is her agreement.

  “A lot of frequent flyer trips for you to cities where I do gigs.”

  “Oh!”

  “A lot of breaks between tours where I sleep—I mean—stay with you, here.”

  “Yeah!” Sylvie’s exclamation makes me harden. I hope she’ll have less of an effect on me later. Well, no. I don’t.

  “A lot of Skyping”—I touch her ear with my lips so no one can hear the rest—“Sex-Skyping while I’m on tour.”

  “Ohhkay.” She’s losing her breath. Mouthwatering.

  “A lot of— No. Not just ‘a lot of.’” I slip a glance to her family. There’s a handful of them shuffling discreetly on their feet. I feel brave and strangely young when I amend, “You being my girlfriend, my one-and-always-only, and me being your man.”

  “O.M.G. Yes!”

  A few months ago I learned that Love can find you when you’re not looking. I learned it doesn’t always make sense. I learned it makes impossible things seem necessary. And now, I’ve learned that Love can even claim my nineteen-year-old sister.

  Was I skeptical of the magnetism between my sibling and her world-worn Gypsy? Yeah, of course. Sylvie crushes like no one should. She has since that first playground controversy when she forced Billy Talbot to accept her dandelion offering at five. What she doesn’t do is cry. She doesn’t wallow. She doesn’t hide her light in the shadows waiting for nothing. No, our Sylvie is radiance. When Mom called, worried because her spark had been snuffed out, I knew this was different.

  It wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened. I suspected that she wouldn’t have the guts to tell him she was leaving. I didn’t like it, but part of me also wondered if it wasn’t for the best. After all, their little fling would end easier with a clean break. No one needs a long, pointless goodbye with promises they have no intention of keeping.

  Except, strange thing. Right after she got on the plane, an amber-eyed Gypsy found me, soul ripped up like any girl would hope from the man she loved. When Mom confirmed my sister was the same shriveled mess of broken heart, it was a no-brainer.

  So there I was at the airport with Luke on Christmas Eve, waiting for our flight and dialing an L.A. number. Begging my sister’s flame to come and reignite her. He was confused, upset too because of the way she’d left him, but her knight more than proved his worth when I explained how my sister’s insecurities often translate to insanity.

  He didn’t want to accept my ticket, but I didn’t give him a choice when it came down to it. This was my gift to my sister, and there was no way I was letting him in our house unless he let me foot the bill for his trip.

  Now, I’m a satisfied benefactor. Standing in the foyer, watching two souls entwine the way my own found the one who’s slipping his arm around my waist.

  “You’re amazing. It’s the perfect gift,” Luke whispers, and I settle against my own Love, tugging his wrist tightly around me. A Christmas Miracle? Yeah, maybe, if you can stomach that crap.

  “When it’s real, it’s real. We know that better than anyone, right?”

  He grins and plants the most incredible kiss on my lips. A forever-kiss. The same kind of kiss happening by the door between an almost-twenty teen queen and her guitar tech inferno.

  “Besides,” I continue when I draw away. “There was no way in hell I was losing out to my parents’ annual NSB T-shirt gift again this year.”

  Time for more rocker love?

  Yes?

  How about some Night Shifts Black, Tracing Holland, and Clown Irruption reads?

  Meet Luke, Callie, and Casey in:

  Night Shifts Black (Night Shifts Black, book
1):

  Meet Luke and Holland in:

  Tracing Holland (Night Shifts Black, book 2):

  Meet Bo and Nadia in:

  Walking Heartbreak (Indie-Rockers, book 1):

  Meet Emil and Zoe in:

  In The Absence of You (Indie-Rockers, book 2):

  To our patient and loving families who endured our endless giggles as we worked our way through this story.

  To Cheryl McIntyre and Evie Woods who braved our draft and provided valuable feedback.

  To Geneviève and Jean-Philippe Mercier, our perfect rocker shenanigans cover couple. You “rocked” it! heh

  To Era Media Co. for once again bringing a vision to life with the cover design.

  To the members of Sunniva’s Angels and Aly’s Breakfast Club. We can never thank you enough for your support and encouragement. You mean the world to us.

  To all of you who took the time to read Sylvie + Shandor and join us on this wild ride, thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

  We’d love to hear from you, and stay tuned for Rocker Shenanigans II: Kat + Eli, coming in 2017.

  COPYRIGHT

  Names, characters, places and events are the product of the authors’ imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the authors.

  Rocker Shenanigans I: Sylvie + Shandor

  Copyright © 2016 Sunniva Dee and Alyson Santos

  All rights reserved.

  First edition December 19th, 2016

  Cover Design by Era Media Co.

  Cover models: Jean-Philippe Mercier and Geneviève Mercier

  Ebook Formatted by John Gibson